


The sound of your mind

by Pearlislove



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/pseuds/Pearlislove
Summary: “Music is the window to my brain”Frankie told Grace that once when she tried to convince her to turn off a folk song in falsetto that had been playing since the early hours of the morning. However, Grace never thought about it or whatever it was supposed to mean. Just like finding a way to throw out the speakers wasn't worth the effort, it wasn't important to figure out what it was that she meant by those words. It was just another one of those many many nonsense statement that Frankie liked to drop in between bits of actual conversation.





	1. Heart of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to this fanfic! Each chapter is a seperate drabble about Grace, Frankie and their life toghther (they're gay!)! Each chapter will come with a song, which will feature one way or another in the chapter. 
> 
> ALWAYS read the notes for each chapter, please, there will triggering things in later Chapters! This one, though, is just sugur sweet fluff!
> 
> Song of the chapter: Heart of Gold by Neil Young

Frankie likes to listen to music a lot. 

 

She likes to listen to it loud and on repeat, constantly streaming an eclectic blend of different artists in country, folk and rock - most of which Grace never knew existed, much less bothered to listen to as it was neither her nor Roberts taste. In fact, in the beginning, Grace found it extremely obnoxious with the consonant sounds surrounding them, and when Robert came with wifi speakers for Christmas she thought she might lose her sanity completely. But she let it be, because it wasn't important enough to fight over.

 

“Music is the window to my brain” 

 

Frankie told Grace that once when she tried to convince her to turn off a folk song in falsetto that had been playing since the early hours of the morning. However, Grace never thought about it or whatever it was supposed to mean. Just like finding a way to throw out the speakers wasn't worth the effort, it wasn't important to figure out what it was that she meant by those words. It was just another one of those many many nonsense statement that Frankie liked to drop in between bits of actual conversation.

 

It really isn't important, until Grace comes home one afternoon and Neil Young's whiny voice is crooning in every room, venting what is in his heart.

 

“Frankie?” Grace calls for her, if nothing else then so she could find her phone and turn off the music.  _ Heart of gold  _ may not have been the worst she'd heard her play, but Grace didn't want to listen longer than she had to.

 

“Grace!” 

 

As Linda Ronstadt’s feather light vocals swept in to save the listeners, Frankie's lips collide against Grace, and suddenly the music is  _ so very important  _ that she is not sure anything has ever been meant more to her than that very moment.

 

_ Keep me searching for a heart of gold _ __  
_ You keep me searching and I'm growing old _ __  
_ Keep me searching for a heart of gold _ _  
_ __ I've been a miner for a heart of gold

 

“You're my heart of gold” 

 

A few hours later, Frankie is laying on Grace's chest and listening to her heartbeats with a happy smile on her face. She is half asleep, eyes almost dropping closed, and the words she mumble are sweet as syrup.

 

Grace laugh, bending down to kiss her gently in all the places that count. “That, I'm happy to be.”


	2. Songs for working & a big yellow taxi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Finally! I really really hope this'll be worth the wait... idk if it's just me but I really love Frankie's sister Teddy and I hooe you'll like my take on her in this fanfic.
> 
> This chapters musical companions are these two: The Work Song by Kate McGarrigle (both the original & the cover by Maria Muldaur), and Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell.

Music always meant a lot to Frankie, but the same can’t be said for Grace. She has her smaller obsessions, but compared to Frankie it barely even count as having a musical interest at all.

 

Music doesn't grow in value until Grace comes home one day, and someone is playing the piano.

 

Grace has never heard anyone play piano before in their house. Grace didn't even know they _owned_ a piano. The unfamiliar sound makes her suspicious, and despite wanting to  knock down the front door and rush in to find out what was going on, she chose to be more diplomatic.

 

Carefully sneaking down the side of the house, she makes it out onto the patio. There, she finds the glass doors open and giving her a clear view straight into their living room.y

 

Sitting by a small keyboard in the middle of the room, is Frankie. Her fingers move with well-trained confidence and hit one key after another to create a string of heavenly music. The smile that cover Frankie’s face as she listen to her creations makes Grace’s heart beat a thousand miles per minute, and she sees and hear nothing else in the world.

 

“Hey, golden girl, are you going to be drooling over my sister all day?”

 

A strong hand shake her shoulder, and when Grace turns to see who it is, she finds Teddie standing next to her. The hand not holding Grace is carrying a violin case and she has what looks like a banjo slung over her back. With an amused smile playing on her lips, she might just be the happiest Grace has ever seen her.

 

“No, I just...I didn’t want to interrupt. Frankie never told me she played.” She admits, blushing a bit at the comment about her drooling over her sister, as that was undeniably what she had been doing. “Didn't know you did, either.” She gestures to the instrument in her hand, raising an eyebrow in a carefully controlled expression of surprise.

 

She doesn't know a lot about Teddie, but she knows that she has been visiting Frankie with increasing frequency, and for that she is glad.

 

Teddie shrugs. “We all did, in our family. Mum played the piano for church every Sunday, and her and dad had us singing harmonies on hymns and folk songs alike. Sort of like the Sound of Music, but not at all like that.” She laughs a little, caught somewhere between sadness over what she lost and happiness at the memory of what has been. “We were supposed to be sophisticated, well-raised children. Playing instruments was a natural part of our education.” She glance down at the case, her free hand fussing with the thick, woven strap on the banjo. “I guess it all kind of died out when we got older. Singing didn't mean as much after...after the accident. The sound of the strings bothered my husband, so I stopped that too eventually.”

 

Grace nodded, fully intending to ask more questions as soon as she has digested the plentiful information already offered. That time never comes, through, as Frankie finally notices her family members standing on the patio and comes out to greet them.

 

“Teddy! Grace!” Before either woman can process what has happened, Frankie has squeezed herself in between them and offered each person an enthusiastic hug. “Oh, this is perfect! I didn't think she'd be home until this afternoon! Teddie, can Grace sit and listen in? Pleaaase?” She begin to beg like a whiny five year old, and Teddy roll her eyes at her immaturity.   

 

“If she wants to I suppose” She agrees finally, handing her violin case to Frankie as she lifted the banjo off her back. “Do you want to?” She looks at Grace curiously, waiting for her to take a decision with her banjo held steadily in her hands.

 

“Frankie want me to” Grace answers awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another. She had never before been home when Teddy came to visit, and she had had no idea that the two sisters passed the time with communal jam sessions. In fact, had she been told to guess, that would have ranked lower than her most long-shot idea on her list of things that they might be doing.

 

A fistfight would ha e seemed more likely, if someone had given her the options.

 

Teddie laugh. It's mocking and it's mean, but Grace doesn't blame her. “At least you're the right kind of gay” She shakes her head, holding her banjo tighter in her hands and heading inside without another word exchanged.

 

Like a lost puppy, Grace hesitates until she realize the best thing she can do is to follow. Quiet as a mouse, she comes sneaking into the living room, tip-toeing to the couch and sittign down on the very end of it. She sits as far away from Teddie as she can, ignoring her as she focus on Frankie instead.

 

Unfortunately, it seems Frankie has chosen to focus on her sister, and it makes it hard for Grace to find something else to actually look at.

 

“Got an idea?” Frankie finally asks her sister.

 

“Maybe” Beside her, Teddie strums her banjo. At first it seems absent minded and aimless, but eventually she seems to find her direction. “Got it” She confirms, smiling.

 

“Go for it” Frankie replies, waiting patiently for her sister to get on it.

 

Hitting the strings just a little harder, she form a sequence of cords that Grace vaguely recognise, and, eventually, she also begin to sing to them. “Back before the blues were blue, when the good ol' songs were new. Songs that may no longer please us,

'Bout the darkies, about Jesus.” Her voice is a scratchy alto, the sound almost as world-weary as she seems to be. She strum and she sing, both sounds mixing in a perfect harmony. “Mississippi minstrels color of molasses, strummed their banjos to entertain their masses...Some said garbage, others cried art, you couldn't call it soul, Lord, you had to call it heart!” Her eyes flutter closed and there is a satisfied grin on her face, the music putting the otherwise so high-strung woman at ease.

 

Listening intently, Frankie soon seems to catch up and start laying out the same cords on the keyboard. The tones are deep and vibrating, and under Frankie’s finger it sounds like a church piano rather than a simple, electronic apparatus. “Backs broke bending digging holes to plant the seeds, the owners ate the cane and the workers ate the weeds! Put the wood in the stove, the water in the cup,  
you worked so hard that you died standing up!” To Grace big surprise, Frankie's voice is a silky soprano, flying high above the clouds and bending the lyrics to her will as she play and sing happily. It bears no resemblance to her sister's voice, but rather create a perfect contrast.

 

It’s without the shadow of a doubt the beautifulest thing Grace has ever heard, even more beautiful than when she was just playing, and without thinking about it Grace launches right into the next sentence together with her girlfriend.

 

“When I was a little thing, papa tried to make me sing...Home Sweet Home and Aura Lee,å  
these were songs that my daddy taught me.” The lyrics flow up from some forgotten corner of Grace brain along with the sound of a scratchy, well-worn vinyl, and it all just feels right in her heart. “Camptown Races and Susannah Don't You Cry, Gentle Annie still brings a tear to my eye! Label it garbage, label it art, you couldn't call it soul, you had to call it heart!”

 

In the logic part of her brain, Grace knows she shouldn’t be singing along. She was already essential intruding on a very private moment between two no-longer estranged sisters just by sitting in on their jam session. Adding her harmony to the song was extremely ballsy, and yet she had done it.

 

When she finished, the effect was immediate. Once the line was finished, both sisters fell quite. The ringing of the instruments died out and two pair of eyes, one blue as the sky and the other as dark as the dirt, turned to stare at Grace. They stared and starred and no one said anything, neither of the three occupants of the room seemingly aware of how to move forward.

 

“Frances, when were you intending to inform me of that your girlfriend knows how to sing?” When Teddie finally talk, there is clear note of awe in her voice. It’s shocked and excited and Grace can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a positive or negative reaction at all.

 

“She never told me in the first place Theodora.” Frankie replies quietly, obviously as shocked and impressed as he sister was. Which, of course, only served to make Grace more uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you sing, Grace!” She then exclaimed, smiling in a very dangerous way.

 

Grace winced, blushing and very carefully avoiding Frankie’s gaze. It was too intense, too much entertainment contained in it. “I just recognized the song” She explained meekly, shrugging her shoulders to try and shake it all off. “It’s Maria Muldaur, isn’t it? I owned the vinyl once.”

 

“It was written by Kate McGarrigle” Teddie informs her, and despite the fact that Grace obviously did not know this she is not as snarky as she could be. “But Maria Muldaur recorded it first. You're a fan?”

 

Grace shrug again, not sure what else to do with her body. “I suppose. I have owned a few of her vinyls.” She doesn't know what more to say of it. It was not as though she was some dedicated fan - it had just been pure luck she recalled enough of the lyrics to sing along. “Music is not really my... _thing_.”

 

Teddie nodded, her face dropping. “Of course it’s not.” It was clear that just as quickly as Grace had won Teddie's respect, she had also lost it. She strummed her fingers nervously against the banjo, appearing indecisive before she finally put it away and replaced it with the violin case. “But if you’re going to be singing with us, I'd prefer to know if you're in or out. Third harmonies springing out of nowhere is less fun than it sounds.”

 

“Oh I'm not joining you” Grace had never said anything quicker, except maybe her marriage vows. “I'm just going to...go do something in the kitchen.” She rise from her chair, preparing to leave as she could tell she had finally overstayed her welcome.  

 

“Why can’t you join us Grace?” Frankie’s voice is small and vulnerable, her eyes big and animal like as she looked at her girlfriend and sister. Between her and Teddy, Frankie will never seem the big sister, and Grace feel a fierce need to protect the child she sees sitting by the keyboard.

 

She hesitated. She didn’t know what to tell Frankie that would not hurt in both their hearts. She looks over at Teddie, reading earth brown eyes, and tries to dig the answer out of their depth.

 

“Just join” Teddie tilts her head towards the empty space next to her, and begins to assemble her violin, testing the strings. “What songs do you know? We got a banjo, a guitar, a violin and a piano. We should be able to handle most songs.”

 

“Uh...I don't really…” Grace fumbles. She want Teddy to approve of her, but her brain is empty for ideas and she doesn't know what the sceptical sister wish to hear.

 

“She likes Dolly Parton” Frankie interject, apparently trying to come to her girlfriends rescue. “She got all her records up until the turn of the century.”

 

“Well that should marry well with your Ronstadt fever, shouldn't it?” Teddie asked sarcastically. “I, on the other hand, have never touched it. So I don’t know what you want me to do here Fran.” Lowering her violin, Teddie finally seemed to cave in. She had given in to her sisters wishes, but it was clear to Grace that Teddie now felt she was being pushed away instead.

 

“I don’t want to sing” Grace interrupted, feeling an intense need to put this all right before Teddie gave up and walked away. “I just want to sit and listen. Please, just play whatever you’d usually like to play.”

 

Teddie looks at Grace, seemingly surprised that Grace was giving up on cc, and Grace smile at her, putting a hand on her arm.

 

“I just want to see my favourite pair of sisters having fun.” She assures her, leaning back to give physical space for them to take over.

 

Frankie grin too when she hears that, changing gears and jumping on the new idea instead. “That we can do! Right sister?”

 

“You got it.” Teddie yas a happy smile on her lips, and just that smale change make her seem years and years younger. “What you want? Folk, country?” The spark that Grace had felt before returned with full force, the two of them synchronizing their minds and energies in preparation for what was to come.

 

“I was thinking Joni Mitchell of Joan Baez” Frankie suggested, grinning excitedly. “I know you like those. But we could to the Mcgarrigle's if your in the mood for some absurdo.”

 

“Big Yellow Taxi or as fast as my feet can carry me?” Teddie suggest, her posture and way of acting much more relaxed than moments ago. Clearly, she was a different woman when she did not feel observed and judged.

 

“Let's do big yellow taxi! If you'll grab the guitar?” Frankie asked, bending down in front of Grace to pull it out from under the couch. Grace had never seen it before or knew how it ended up there, but Frankie dusted it off and opened it up without my concern.

 

“You know it! Strings are my thing.” Putting the violin away and closing the tiny case, Teddie grabbed the guitar from Frankie instead, confidently starting to test out the strings. After a few trying strokes, she frowned, carefully starting to adjust the tuning.

 

“It's tuned” Frankie commented very  gently when Teddy had been adjusting the strings for a little while. “It's always tuned when you come over. You don't need to adjust it every time.”

 

“And you know that, as always, I don't play it when the strings are tuned this high. How you even got any skin left on your fingers is a mystery, but I'm not risking mine. They're already scarred from the banjo.” Finishing, Teddy tried out the strings again and smiled. “Ah yes, that’s much better! Now come on, let's do this before I have to leave!” Picking up pace, she began to strum the guitar in an aggressive rhythm.

 

Frankie nodded along, the two sisters staring into eachothers eyes as the music went on and seemingly waiting for the perfect moment to.

 

Finally, it seemed to arrived, and Frankie sang.

 

“They paved paradise and put up a parking lot,  
with a pink hotel, a boutique, and a swinging hot spot!” Just like the first time Grace heard her, the sound coming out of Frankie's mouth was angelic. It was high pitched and composed, but it was still powerful, crackling with power hiding just beneath the surface. “Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's  gone...They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot!”

 

“They cut down all the trees, put them in a tree museum, and they charged people a dollar and a half just to see them! Don't it always seem to go...”

 

As Teddie pick up with her scratchy alto, Grace relax into the couch. The imbalance that she caused is gone, and Frankie and Teddie fell into a clearly familiar pattern, throwing lines between them like they're juggling balls.

 

It was beautiful, almost soothing, and Grace could feel herself sink deeper down into the couch as she enjoyed the music that surrounded her.

 

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, heaviness weighing them down until they closed and did not open again.

 

Within moments, Grace was fast asleep.

 

“You finally got yourself a keeper, didn't you?” Teddie whispered, letting the sound of the guitar died out as she watched her sisters girlfriend fall asleep. Hesitating a bit, she then used one hand to maneuver the woven blanket off the back of the couch and spreading it out over Grace instead, ensuring her comfort.

 

“Yes” Frankie agree with a satisfied little sigh, yer she does not feel completely at peace from the way her sister spoke. “But Sol was a keeper too” Frankie can't help but bite back, the hurt over her sisters scorn so familiar she doesn't notice. Teddie had never understood her and Sol, the distrust between the two eventually breaking the two sisters fragile relationship.

 

Luckily, she seemed to understand her relationship with Grace a lot better.

 

“Sol was gay” Teddie is very quiet when she say this, her voice softer. “And I knew it fourty years before you did”

 

“But I'm a lesbian” Frankie says just as quietly. “And you had no idea forty years ago.”

 

“No idea at all.” Teddie echoes. “I always thought I was the one that wasn’t straight.” It’s like pulling off a bandaid, admitting a fact that she knows will be held over her head for the rest of eternity and then some.

 

The confession is sudden and Frankie’s comment is immediate. Overtake by shock,  she starred, eye bulging in shock as she tried to process what he sister was telling her. “You married a man!” She exclaimed.

 

“So did you, and look where that ended up!” Teddie bite back without hesitation, eternally mortified and embarrassed that she even admitted to being anything but heterosexual. She threw her hands up in the air, surrendering. “Come at me, Fran! Tell me how much of a hypocrite I am!” She challenged her sister, knowing she would love to have fun on her expense.

 

After those final words, the room fall quiet. Frankie stares at Teddie, feelings obviously moving towards the surface, fighting to grow strong enough so that Frankie’ll express them.

 

“I love you Teddie” Frankie responded, grinning as she happily wrapped her arms tightly around her sister. At first, the warm body in her arms is stiff and uncomfortable, but after a few seconds, she melted straight into her embrace.

 

“I love you too Fran” She lean into the embrace, closing her eyes and clinging tightly to her sister. She had missed the support, had missed not feeling alone, but now she was safe.

 

Finally, the two sister were good again.

  
  
  



	3. Why must we die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: "Why must we die" by Kate & Anna McGarrigle 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains referenced suicide, please if this trigger you do not read!

The amount of emotions that Frankie claims to reflect in the music she play isn't  important, until Grace comes home one day and something is terribly wrong.

 

She'd been gone for forty-eight hours, watching most but not all of Mallory's children while she went of an all girls weekend with Brianna, Allison and Nadia. Frankie, meanwhile, had chosen to stay home to work on her paintings.

 

She had been fine when Grace left. She had been fine when Grace had called at night.

 

Yet, in the forty-eight hours she was gone, something terrible happened.

 

Around her, all the wireless speakers are on, sound jacked up to maximum. They're playing a somber folk song that Grace believes is called  _ Why must we die _ , and bust thinking of the title made her uneasy.

 

She did not believe Frankie picked it out of coincidence.

 

"Frankie?" She calls, softly, not wanting to frighten but struggling hard tp control her own anxieties. "Frankie, are you in here?"

  
  


“Grace? I didn't know you were going to come home yet.”

 

Frankie stands on the steps up to the studio, and the first thing Grace see is that she looks a mess. Her tangled grey hair is everywhere, her clothes more wrinkled and stained than usual, and her feet are bare. The hand that holds her mobile phone is shaking and limp, and Grace can tell she's been crying.

 

“I forgot to text you, I'm sorry.” She smiles, but it's overwhelmed by the panic rising from within. “What's wrong? What happened?” She moves in closer, arms open in a promise of love and safety, but Frankie step away, eyes downcast to the floor.

 

She doesn't answer, a brief silence festering between them as the song on the speakers start over. The first few paragraphs come floating through the air, the sound of the frail voices penetrating ever atoms in Grace's body.

 

_ We have blood and we have grace   _ _   
_ _ We have a will and we have muscle _ _   
_ _ A soul and a face _ _   
_ __ Why must we die ?

 

“It doesn't matter” Frankie finally says, her voice cracking all the way through and tears coming back into her eyes. Her arms wrap around herself, spidery fingers squeezing her shoulders, and her eyes travel from the floor to the speakers, listening. 

 

_ We are men of constant sorrow _ _   
_ _ We'll have trouble all our days _ _   
_ _ We never found our Eldorado _ _   
_ __ Where we were born

 

“Except it obviously does” Grace corrects her, stepping closer again and refusing to allow for Frankie to isolate herself. The same song plays on like a taunting ghost in the background, but Grace ignore it. “Frankie please. Tell me.” She beg, arms stretched out and ready to comfort.

 

“I don't want to talk about it Grace. It doesn't matter” Frankie repeat her stoic statement, but this time she is breaking more than just in her voice. Her hand open up and the phone fall out, the volume cutting down into half as the screen hit the floor with a sickening  _ crack. _

 

It happens fast and Grace is never given a chance to react, because Frankie goes next. Her knees buckle and her hole body crashes down towards the floor. “If I say it it’s real! It can't be real!” She scream, tears flowing freely as she pull at her hair and vent her sorrows. “It can't be real!” 

 

Grace heart is in her throat as she crash down next to Frankie, pulling her close and holding her tight as she struggle fight against emotions that Grace suddenly recognise all too well.

 

Grief. 

 

Purebred sorrow, overriding all logic and consuming Frankie from the inside out as she cried into her lovers arms.

 

_ We are men of constant sorrow _ _   
_ _ We'll have trouble all our days... _

 

“Sweetie, you know you can't deny things. No matter how much it hurt, you must be honest.” Grace allow Frankie to be consumed, for now, because she knows that sometimes you can not fight the feelings, but rather have to go through them and come out stronger on the other side. “Will you please tell me what has happened?” She ask, still frightened as she does not know for who or what Frankie grieve.

 

“Teddy”

 

It's like the hole world collapses around the two of them as Frankie says that word, the truth it reveals almost too much to bear.

 

Frankie’s sister is dead, and it is a pain that Grace can not imagine nor does she want to, because just the second hand horror washing over her is heavy enough.

 

“Oh god Frankie” She pulls Frankie even closer, covering her head and face in gentle kisses as she rest against her.  “I'm so sorry. That...that is horrible! When did it happen?” 

 

“They found her last night. The...her son called me at three am” Frankie whispers, her head moving to hide against Grace's shoulder. “She did it herself, Grace. Her cancer...it came back and she couldn't take it. No one even knew, she didn't say anything, she just…” There are too many tears for the last words to be audible, but Grace doesn't need them to be.

 

She holds Frankie and she rock her slowly back and forth, trying to figure out how she is going to pull Frankie through this. How she is going to comfort and mend a heart that has been so irreparably broken.

 

“Whatever happens, I'm here. We will pull through, I promise you. It will be fine.” Grace mumbles, knowing it will likely change very little. 

 

“I don't know if I can do this, Grace. Not another one…” Frankie's grip of Grace's shirt is so tight it might actually rip it apart, but Grace couldn't care less. She can tell that she is thinking of her brother, and of the tragedy that tore her and her family apart. “There is no one but me left.”

 

“You have to! Think about Teddy. She would not want you to follow her lead. She may have told you she didn't care but it would've broken her into a million pieces. You know that.” Grace assure her, kissing her some more and rocking a little faster. “Coyote and Bud needs you too.  _ Faith _ still needs you” It's a very low blow to bring up her tiny grandchild, but at this point it might be the only thing that is saving Frankie.

 

“She knew it would break  _ me _ , and  _ she  _ did it.” Frankie protest, grabbing on even tighter to Grace clothes. 

 

Grace let her. She let her hold her and cry and do what she want, her free hand managing to access her own phone from her purse. Sol is on speed dial and she press the button without hesitating. It takes three long rings before her answers, and when he does Grace doesn't have time for pleasantries.

 

It feels as though Frankie has fallen asleep but she isn't sure if it's something as good as sleep that has claimed her, and her mind is spinning.

 

“Teddy died” Her own voice crack around those words, and she can hear Frankie whimpering in her arms. “Please come. I don't...I don't think I can handle Frankie alone.”

 

Sol doesn't answer. There is a precious second of silence, and then the call disconnect. Grace let her hand and her hand fall to the floor, knowing that he is on his way to help her.

 

She doesn't know how many hours of hugging that passes next. Her knees ache and she feels as though her spine is going to shatter, but she doesn't dare to move as Frankie continues to lean on her, crying and sleeping in intervals, completely senseless the few times she did chose to speak. 

 

“Grace” 

 

A strong hand land upon her shoulder, squeezing it tight in a supportive way and from the odd cologne she know that Sol has arrived.

 

“Help me move her. Please” She croak, her throat dry and ever part of her aching.

 

She's been feeling the aches and pains for a long time, but with Frankie resting in her arms she wouldn't dream of moving a centimeter.

 

"Don't worry, I got her Grace" He has a woven blanket in his arms, wrapping it around the resting form in Grace's lap and lifting her up into his arms instead. "Can you get up yourself? Where am I supposed to put her?"

 

Grace shook her head, struggling slightly but finally managing to get up on her feet, pain radiating through her knee as she stood. "I didn't plan for this" Is all she can say, going off to the Kitchen island to get herself a glass of water, trying to gather and focus her thoughts and feelings now that she is no longer burdened with Frankie's minimal weight on top her own.

 

"Neither did I" Sol said simply, carefully sitting down on the sofa with Frankie. One of his rough hands are stroking her dark curls, and the sympathy he feel shine like stars in his eyes. "I understand you're upset, Grace, but I need to know what she said. You said  _ Teddie died _ , but what does that mean?".

 

Grace drink her water, she refill it, and she drink that too before she knows how to answer. "She went like Babe." Is the words she finally  settle on, because she does not have the heart to actually say the words, to actually tell him that she  _ killed herself _ . 

 

"Babe?" Sol is confused, but after a second it dawned on him. "Oh god...and how did she find out?"

 

"Teddies son called. Her found her" She swallow the third glass of water like its vodka and deeply wish it was, but would not consider to touch it when Frankie was this way. She needed a clear head, now more than ever, in order to not let down the woman she loves.

 

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit" Sol doesn't normally swear, but he's not sure that a meal "shit" or five was going to suffice to explain the damage he knew that loosing her sister would inflict on the woman he loved.

 

"I know" Grace says softly. Finishing with the water, she comes to join him on the couch. "It's terrible. But we have to be strong, for Frankie."

 

"Yeah" Sol look down, strong the gray curls like he had used to so many many time before. It felt natural, but he knew were it not for the tragedy that had struck, he wouldn't even be there. 

 

It hurt.

 

"I'm glad you came" Grace offered, seeing on Sol's face that he wasn't quite as comfortable as he tried to appear. "I know i shouldn't go running to you with all the troubles, but…"

 

"No, it's okay" Sol interrupted, putting a hand on Grace knee. "Disasters is my area of expertise. Besides...I think Frankie will appreciate both our presence.

 

"Yes" Grace agreed, a little shocked by the hand on her knee, but grateful all the same. Slowly, she moved closer, sliding in until she was right next to Sol, and carefully put her head on his shoulder. "We'll get through it together"

 

_ We are human, we are angel _

_ We have feet and wish for wings _

_ We are carbon, we are ether _

_ We are saints, we are kings _

_ Why must we die _

 

_ Why must we die? _


	4. Nobody's perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, Sheryl Crow came out with a new albums, Threads. On it there's an amazing duet with Emmylou Harris called "Nobody's Perfect". it made me crie and when i finished crying i jumped straight into writing this. Emjoy!
> 
> PS: Dedicated to M as always <3

_ There are no mistakes in life, that's what I find _

 

"You know, I always told you not to marry Sol. I  _ knew  _ something wasn't right." Teddy can’t help but comment on it, almost shyly whispering it over her cup of tea. Herbal brews wasn't her thing, but for her sister she drank and enjoyed.  "You really should've listened to me back then" She means well, but the tight look on her sisters face keep her from pushing her luck any further.

 

"Yeah" Frankie agrees obediently, but there is no glow in the statement. The fact that her sister felt superior for being right about her marriage wasn't new, and she let her do it. "It was a good mistake, though" She adds almost defiantly, and smile.

 

_ Nobody's perfect  _

 

* * *

 

_ If they want to tear us down, they can get in line _

 

"I just don't understand why we have to be friends with those...hippies? I can smell the weed from here, Robert!"

 

Frankie has only just met Grace, but she is quickly learning about the ugly sides of the prim and proper lady as she talks about her and Sol behind their backs.

 

Beauty never blessed anyone with a good soul, Frankie's mum had used to say. Every single day since she married Sol, Frankie was finding that statement more true.

 

"Now, don't be like that. Sol's a good guy, just give them a chance…" Robert begs softly to deaf ears, and it is almost heartwarming to hear herself being taken in defense.

 

If it wasn't that it's only her husband they defend.  _ She  _ was too much of a stretch on her own, just barely included in her husbands existence and good character instead. 

 

So she grabs a random plate of appetizers, and she walk straight up to her husband's new business partner and his snotty, self-entitled wife. She's dressed up like a doll with high heels and pearls and a tight dress, but it obviously hasn't been enough for them not to judge, so she doesn't worry about exposing her "Crazy" side.

 

Instead, she shoves the plate into Grace's hands with a razor sharp smile. 

 

"Eat up" 

  
  


_ Proving something to them is way beyond my reach _

 

* * *

__

 

_ At least if we screw up we do it honestly _

  
  


"It was a mistake!" Frankie tells Grace for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time, she can tell that Grace doesn't believe her.

 

Grace is a beautiful woman - every wrinkle, every strand of silver hair, is so beautiful, and Frankie is undoubtedly in love with the woman that stands before her. But what difference does that make, when Grace will just roll her eyes and break Frankie's heart?

 

 None at all

 

"Try harder, and next time I might believe you!" She yell, and Frankie has never felt so small.

 

She does mistakes, but she owes up to them every time.

 

_ Nobody’s Perfect _

 

* * *

 

_ Sorry goes a long long way _

 

"I'm sorry" Grace smile sadly at Frankie, an arm wrapping around her shoulders as they booth sink deep into her pleather couch. "I'm just...I've been so angry at Robert, and I've taken it all out on you"

 

"It's fine. You never liked me" She move away from the comfort of the embrace, knowing Grace wasn't as sincere as she sounded. "And I know you won't start to, just because you're getting divorced" She smile, and try to pretend it's okay.

 

Grace looked at Frankie, shocked. "No" She told her. "No, I've been wrong. I really haven't been fair to you, and I should've, should've said it before, but..." She sighed heavily. 

 

_ But sometimes it's hard to say _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Stickers on a suitcase tell me where you've been _

 

Frankie comes back from Santa Fe with a suitcase covered in stickers. Some have messages, some colorful images and some are just airline-issued baggage labels. It doesn’t really matter what they are, because every time she look at them it hurts her.

 

She wanted Frankie to be happy, she really did, but she couldn't help but wish there would never be another sticker on that suitcase. She couldn’t help but wish, that Frankie would never have to leave again, because happiness was right there.

 

Frankie is  _ home _ , and Grace had never felt happier in her life. It wasn't a feeling she understood quite yet, but she took the happiness for what it was and felt grateful. She was going to curate it, she told her, take care of it and cherish it  and make sure Frankie never felt unwanted again.

 

_ Could this be the one place you don't leave again? _

 

* * *

 

_ All the best intentions lead you down my path _

 

They sit in the sand, on the beach. The stars twinkle in the night sky above their heads, the grains of dust are still warm and comfortable between her toes and it's not yet late enough for the night to be cold.

 

It would have be perfect, if it wasn't that Grace’s face is a mask of misery, and Frankie can tell that whatever will pass her lips is going to be terrible.

 

"I married Nick"

 

_ Of Wishing you could take your lame excuses back _

 

* * *

 

_ Nobody's perfect, how could anyone be? _

 

"I love you, Frankie. And I'm sorry" Grace starred holes in the ground, forcing the words to come out of her mouth despite how hard it is for her to express these things."I tried to do the right thing all the time but it all just went...completely wrong." 

 

She cry. Tears well up in her eyes and eventually they well down her cheeks, her hole body shaking as she sob over her own mistakes. She had been such an idiot. thanking that things were really going to be okay if she left Frankie.

 

"It's okay" Frankie wraps her arms around her, pulling her close and hugging her really tight. She was crying, too, but it hardly mattered. It was all out of happiness, anyway.

 

 "Even after everything that happened, I still love you"

  
  


_ Nobody's perfect, especially me _

* * *

  
  


_ I've been around enough to know _

_ Sometimes it's hard to see _

_ Nobody's perfect _

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Prends ton manteau - Take your coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that inspirerad this fanfic is a song called Pronto Monto, a very sloppy pronounciation of the phrase prends ton manteau, which is French for 'Grab Your Coat'. It's a beautiful song and I hope you'll find the chapter it inspirerad equally beautiful.
> 
> Ps: It is in french, but the lyrics here are English translations

_ Take your coat, your shoes, your cares _

 

Frankie doesn't tell Grace to leave, but she sense that the time has come. Nick makes room for her in his bathroom cabinet, and so she moves on.

She steps into their house one last time, absentmindedly gathering the last of her belongings in an empty box as she goes along. A coffee mug, a picture, a hairbrush. 

All the left-over evidence that this had once been her home, too.

Last of all, she grabs her coat and her shoes from the hallway closet, hurrying along so fast that she doesn't think to close it behind her when its over.

Things are ending, and she need to escape.

Lifting the heavy box back in her arms once the remaining items are packed and folded inside, and then, suddenly, she is out.

She doesn't look back as she gives up on everything she knows for an uncertain future, but she feel the regrets already piling on her back.

 

* * *

 

_ Walk slowly into the sleeping morning _

 

For every step she takes, the box feels heavier. A rising sun blind her eyes and for a moment, she wonders why she had to do this. 

 

Why she said yes

 

Had Nick really been worth losing Frankie? Was the promise of not being left alone in bed as she grew old worth that much?

 

She doesn't know, but recognize it's too late to ask, and so she keeps walking. Keep walking on into the early morning, making sure that when Frankie wakes up, she is long gone. 

 

* * *

 

_ The hour has come and now, alone _

 

Frankie wakes up, and the last of Grace is gone. The coffee mug, the picture, the birthday cards. 

 

The hairbrush she never remembered to return to the bathroom and the secret stash of Vodka in the kitchen drawer have vanished, every single little spec of Grace that dotted the spaces but a memory.

 

In the hallway, the closet stands open and glaringly empty. The furry pink coat and the shiny black shoes has gone, and so has Grace.

 

Feeling her skin crawl, Frankie turns around and runs straight out of the house. Out onto the patio, over the edge of the wooden structure and on down into the warm sand below.

 

She runs until the wet of the ocean meet her feet and she doesn't know where to run anymore.

 

_ You're fading in a mist, a memory, a care _

 

* * *

 

_ Sad dreams trouble my sleep _

 

"Aaaah!"

 

For the millionth time, Grace wakes up in cold sweat, and all she sees is Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.

 

The ghost of all that she lost haunts her, and now more than ever she knows for sure that she did a mistake.

 

As quiet as she can be, she slips out of bed and tip-toes to the balcony. A sunny, glittering tropical paradise greets her and a soft wind blows warm air at her face, bringing with it a smell of exotic flowers. 

 

Turquoise waves hit against the white sands somewhere far neth Grace's feet and though it is beautiful, all she can think of is how much she misses the beaches of California.

 

She is in Paradise, but she wants nothing more than to go home. 

 

Home to Frankie.

  
  


_ Cry that this goodbye is but an au revoir _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me your thoughts! Got a song you think Frankie would be playing? Give it to me, and I'll see if I can make a chapter out of it!


End file.
